Wounded Wings (Cupid Chronicles) (18 page)

Chapter 24

Elijah tried to act like kissing Naomi—holding her, touching her—didn’t mean more than it obviously did to her.

Don’t be so serious . . .

Maybe he was cursed with an overly analytical mind. A remnant of his Heavenly days, working for Father. But those days were over. He could enjoy it while it lasted, as she said.

Couldn’t he?

Then why did his heart ache painfully at the thought of moving on and leaving her behind?

He shook his head and got back to work, slicing the tomatoes with a vengeance as he tried to make his heart obey.

Then, in a sudden, agonizing flash, it came to him and he dropped the knife with a
clunk
.

Sarah.

He hadn’t thought of her in days. Weeks maybe. Not since . . . he leaned against the counter and sucked in a pained breath as realization dawned. Not since Naomi had wrapped herself firmly around his heart. Like a vine, waiting to choke him. Or vice versa.

When had that happened? How?

“Noooo,” he groaned, running a hand down his face. He spun away from the counter. He had to go. Now. Before his soul became involved. Again.

He scrambled for the door just as Sharla came strolling in with a huge grin. “Hey, Eli, sugar—” The smile slid off her face once she spotted him and took in his fight or flight posture. “What’s wrong?”

“I, uh . . .” He paused. He quit? He was leaving? Darn it, the words stuck in his throat as she eyed his soiled apron and the bubbling pans behind him, the scents of his savory shepherd’s pie heavy in the air between them.

She pursed her red lips. “Going somewhere, Eli?” The woman never missed anything.

“Ma’am?”

“You sure look like you’re in a bit of a rush there.” She glanced at his half-sliced salad fixings and then back at his face. “Something going on?”

He swallowed. Yes, something major was going on, but he couldn’t talk about it. “Just, uh, not feeling too well all of a sudden, Sharla.” He glanced down, unable to meet her gaze.

She took a few steps over and placed the back of her hand to his forehead, making him peer up into her concerned brown eyes. He’d never had a mother to care for him. Something in his heart tumbled a bit. “Hmmm,” she murmured. “I guess you do feel a bit warm.” She stepped back and eyed him. “You sure that’s all that’s going on, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? He blinked. “Yes, ma’am.”

She gave him a half-smile, as if she knew he was hiding something, but was going to let it go. “Well, go home and rest up. I’ll call Raul in to cover the lunch rush. I need you on your top game tomorrow.”

He furrowed his brow. He didn’t really plan on being here tomorrow. “Why?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear? That reporter man with the big travel magazine just got to town. I hear he’s planning on stopping at all the eateries, including the diner, as well as checking out the festival.” She grinned. “If he writes something nice in his magazine, this could be huge for us!”

Elijah’s stomach dropped. Could he really leave them now? Would his heart let him?

“Oh, Mr. Simon, I’m glad you could stop by,” Naomi said, brushing her flour-covered hands on her jeans. “We’ve been so excited you’re coming to New Destiny.”

His blue eyes flicked to hers.

“Vi and I . . . I mean. Well, the whole town, too, I suppose.” She extended her hand before she said anything to make herself sound dumber. “I’m Naomi Evans.” She glanced to the back, wishing Vi were there. Wishing she’d had some warning he was coming. Wishing her stupid heart didn’t yearn for Eli to share in this moment. Stupid, stupid heart.

Mr. Simon smiled and perused the glass case of baked goods. “I got into town a bit early and I thought I’d stop by for a sweet treat before I checked into my bed and breakfast.” He glanced up and caught her eyes. Was he flirting? He was a decent looking, thirty-something guy with a slightly receding hair line, kind blue eyes, and a few wrinkles in his jeans and AC/DC T-shirt. A bit unprofessional if you asked her, but maybe they were his traveling clothes. Heck, who knew how far he’d come to get here.

And he potentially held the bakery’s future in his hands.

Naomi pasted on her brightest smile and opened the back of the case. “What’s your pleasure, Mr. Simon?”

“Please, call me Ben.” He winked.

Definitely flirting. “Okay. Ben. What would you like? On the house.”

Like a kid in a candy store, he studied the case for several minutes then chose a chocolate chunk brownie. She served him in the corner table, along with a cup of coffee. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you.”

She waited while he took a bite and moaned his pleasure. Slot machine jackpot bells went off in her brain.
Score!

She wasn’t sure what to do next, so she stepped away and moved back behind the counter, trying not to stare. He really was a nice-looking guy. Not gorgeous. Not built. Definitely not Eli. But not bad.

Ben glanced over and she felt her blush when he caught her stare. She offered a tentative smile.

“So,” he said. “What would you recommend in your town?” He grinned. “Besides the brownies?”

Time to put on her saleswoman hat. She cleared her throat and whipped out her spiel that she’d prepared just in case she had this opportunity. All the local eateries, tourist spots, and the festival.

He nodded and sipped his coffee. “And what do you do for fun, Naomi?”

Fun? Why did Eli’s chocolaty ice cream kisses come to mind?
Get your mind out of the gutter, Naomi. Focus.
She couldn’t very well tell him there wasn’t much to do in their small town, now, could she? She blinked. “Uh . . . I’m usually pretty busy with the bakery. And my . . . Vi, who runs the bakery with me is in the rehab hospital now, so I don’t have much time for fun. But, there’s plenty of places to eat, a theater. And not too far away, there’s the National Park, museums, and the Code Talkers Monument.”

He fiddled with the handle of his cup. “I’m sorry about Vi.”

“Thanks. She should be home in time for the festival, so hopefully you’ll get to meet her.”

He stood. “I’ll look forward to it.” He moved to bring her the dirty dishes, but she rushed over. “Let me.”

Their fingers brushed and he caught her eyes again. “And I look forward to seeing you again as well, Naomi.”

“You, too, Mr.—Uh, Ben.”

He smiled and left.

Um, what had just happened?

Chapter 25

Naomi had no better idea what happened with Mr. Simon—Ben—at the bakery the day before, but she brushed it aside. Vi was home. Finally! A bit pale and weak, but she was home.

“So.” Vi glanced up at her from her easy chair. “If I’ve got my days right, isn’t tonight little Emma’s pre-benefit dance?”

Naomi glanced into Vi’s sparkling eyes. The woman hadn’t lost all her spunk. “Yes. You want to go?”

“You think I talked them into letting me outta that place just so I could sit at home? Of course I want to go.”

“Well, okay.” Naomi smiled, just happy Vi was back home where she belonged.

“So,” Vi said again, lasering Naomi with a stare. “What’s this Ben Simon like, anyway?”

Naomi felt the automatic blush heat her cheeks. Vi’s eyebrows crinkled as she kept up a silent scrutiny, waiting for an answer. “He’s very nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yes.”

“Pfft. Nice wouldn’t put that rosy shine on your cheeks, girl.” Vi pointed an accusing finger in her direction. “Was he inappropriate? Did he get fresh with you?”

Naomi’s mouth fell open. “What? Oh, God, no! Vi! Why would you even ask that?”

“Well, then is he the next Paul Newman or something?”

Naomi couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The heart attack must’ve affected oxygen flow to Vi’s brain. “What are you talking about?”

Vi rolled her eyes. “Really, Naomi. You’re blushing like a schoolgirl. Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing.”

Vi dropped her head and studied Naomi from under hooded eyes.

“Okay, fine. Mr. Simon came by the bakery and he may have seemed a little . . . flirty.”

“And? Is he a troll or something? I’d think that was a good thing. It’s been a while since anyone’s caught your eye around town. Maybe Mr. Simon is just what the doctor ordered.”

Naomi glanced down, unsure what to say. She hadn’t told Vi about her dud of a date with Dr. Arrington, and she definitely hadn’t told her a thing about Eli. How could she explain the puzzle of her heart when she barely understood it herself? It finally felt like they were making some headway and she didn’t want to jinx it.

“No, he’s not a troll.”

“Then what is it?”

She met Vi’s gaze. She couldn’t hide any longer. Didn’t want to. “I think I’m falling for Eli.”

Elijah glanced over at Michael and his friend, Jo. He wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into coming to this dance, but something in his conscience wouldn’t let him renege from this obligation now.

And as he watched Emma twirling on the dance floor, standing atop Scott’s shoes with her face lit up in an ear-splitting grin, he knew he’d made the right decision. His discomfort was worth her joy.

He quickly moved to the back of the large tent that had been set up for the purpose of dancing, and tried to blend into the background as Michael and his companion moved among the crowd and made their way toward a group from the church. His gaze roamed the clumps of people—young, old, church folk, mothers, beer-bellied men talking sports—and he began to feel even more uncomfortable. The scent of that evening’s spaghetti dinner scented the air, along with someone’s spilt beer.

Ten minutes, he decided, and he was out. He’d made his appearance. He smiled at a couple of people who passed by that he recognized from the diner. Across the way, Sharla entered with a group of ladies and called a greeting out to Emma, who was still dancing away with Scott to the band’s lively country tune.

His stomach clenched and he ducked further into the corner when Claudia entered, her bosoms nearly falling out of her tight black top, her eyes scanning the place. He could only guess who she might be searching for.

He glanced at his watch. Had it been ten minutes yet?

The song ended and the singer said something, but Elijah didn’t hear. His focus was on staying invisible. Then the tune changed. It slowed and couples began to filter onto the dance floor. The melody was pleasing, and he began to enjoy it. But then the haunting lyrics began to filter into his consciousness . . . something about a broken road.

Okay, time to go.

He spun to the left and right into a beautiful, blond vision.

Naomi’s green eyes stared up into his and a slow, sweet smile spread her lips. “Would you like to dance?”

His heart began to pound. He said the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t know how.”

Her eyebrows furrowed adorably. “You don’t know how to dance?”

His gaze darted to the door. To escape. “Uh . . . no. Not really.”

“Oh.”

He couldn’t miss the hurt that clouded her eyes. “But thank you for asking. I’d love to if—”

That must’ve been all she needed to hear. Another smile lit up her face and she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the dance floor. He thought about pulling back, but Claudia was closing in on them, a predatory gleam in her eye.

Naomi led him to the periphery of the floor and slid her body in front of his intimately, snaking both of her arms around his neck. Not sure what to do, he glanced around and tried to mimic the other men by placing his hands on her waist.

She snuggled into him further, shooting a furtive glance in the direction they’d just come from. “We have an audience,” she whispered.

He glanced over. Claudia was watching from the corner he’d just vacated, her dark eyes shooting daggers at Naomi. His stomach pitched.

Naomi just laughed, a sweet, lilting giggle. He peered down into her sparkling green eyes. “You know,” she said, “this isn’t an eighth grade dance. And if you don’t have any interest in Miss Choir Director over there, you might just wanna give her a little show so she’ll leave you alone.”

His brows dipped. “What do you mean?”

She tilted her head. “Wait.
Are
you interested in Claudia?”

“God, no!”

“Okay, well, obviously our little kiss at the ice cream parlor didn’t do the trick, and she still has her sights set on you, big boy.” She raised a brow at him mischievously. “So, here’s what we do . . .”

He leaned in, unable to help himself.

She took advantage and pressed her lips to his, stealing a kiss. The exchange was quick, sweet, nothing like the mind-blowing ones they’d shared, yet he still found himself reeling when he opened his eyes to find her lovely, innocent, perfect smile. She was intoxicating.

And dangerous.

“That was a good start,” she said breathlessly.

She kept her focus intently on his eyes, never letting him free for a moment. He couldn’t have looked away if he’d wanted to as she snuggled in even closer than before, wrapping her arms even tighter around his neck. Her breasts brushed his chest, their hearts now beating side by side.

“Now,” she whispered, “tuck your hands in my back pockets.”

His mind couldn’t comprehend through the haze, but his body complied automatically. He slid his fingertips around her waist as it moved slowly to the continued melody, her hips rhythmically swaying under his hands, until his fingertips found the pockets of her jeans and rested on the swell of her bottom.

Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Her eyes sparked in the dim lighting.

The band played on, her hips showing him how to move as he cupped her intimately.

She was everything carnal, every temptation, every perfect thing that Father created for man and woman to enjoy together. Now he understood the beauty of that creation.

She glanced at his lips, then across the room. She smiled and met his gaze. “Well, I think she’ll be leaving you alone now.”

The fog lifted and he blinked. What was he doing? He struggled and failed to pull up an image in his mind of Sarah. Instead, all he could see, feel, smell, know, was . . . Naomi. Always Naomi.

Slowly, he drew his hands back, then stepped away. He offered a tight smile. “Thank you for the dance.” He shot a quick glance to the corner. “And for helping with that. But it’s time for me to go.”

Naomi didn’t say a word as he spun away and headed for the exit as fast as he could. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quick enough.

“Where’re you going? We just got here.” Michael stepped in front of him, his gigantic girth blocking the path to freedom.

Elijah peered up into the big man’s earnest eyes. “Oh. Just, uh, you know.” He couldn’t think of a good excuse. And he could not lie.

Michael’s brows drew together. “But Mr. Simon hasn’t even gotten here yet. Everyone’s waiting to meet him because his article is such a big deal for the town. He’s sort of an honorary guest of honor tonight. You can’t leave now. It would be rude.”

Elijah’s heart dropped. He nodded. “Sure. I was just going to step out for some fresh air.”

Michael studied his face another moment, then nodded and stepped away.

Elijah escaped outside and made for a dark corner of the parking lot and sank to a bench.

Oh, Father, what a mess I’ve made!

How could he have gone and fallen for yet
another
human? He hadn’t even paid his penance for the first time! What a weakling he was!

This benefit couldn’t be over fast enough.

As he sat in prayerful silence, his heart started to settle. It would be all right. At least this time, his frailty wasn’t such a sin, and he hadn’t broken a commandment. The situation could be rectified. He could leave with his soul intact . . . what was left of it.

A plan began to form. Once the benefit was over, he’d give Sharla notice, then take the savings he’d accumulated, buy a car and—

His head snapped up as murmurs and feet crunching on gravel sounded beside him. He shrank back into the dark recesses of the cove the bench was tucked into, thankful it was hidden behind several flowering bushes. From the voices, it was only a few people. Thankfully, they stopped by the shrubbery and didn’t invade his privacy. He wasn’t up to small talk.

“So, what was up with the Hottie Chef groping your ass, Naomi?”

Elijah felt his face flame when he recognized Delaney’s voice. He waited, anxious to hear the response.

“Yeah, Naomi,” the Sheriff added, his gruff voice making Elijah’s heart pound louder, “do you two have something going on? Cuz the way he was fondling you . . .”

Elijah heard a soft intake of air. Naomi.

“Really, guys? My personal life is none of your business.”

A shuffle of gravel. “Of course it’s my business!” This from the Sheriff.

“And that kiss! Phew, girl, thought I’d need a fire extinguisher,” Delaney said with a smile in her voice.

“What kiss?” the Sheriff demanded.

“Oh, Beau, grow up,” Delaney shot back. “Naomi is a grown woman. And if she wants to sleep with Chef Boy, then that’s her business.” Her voice lowered. “Just tell me . . . is he as good as he looks?”

Elijah was sure his face was going to explode it felt so hot. Surely they weren’t talking about . . .?

Naomi giggled. “No.”

No?

“No?” Delaney sounded disappointed. “Darn it. He’s so hot. I was sure he’d be incredible . . . and that you’d tell me some of that crème he makes would be involved.” She moaned.

Elijah cringed.

“Ladies.” Beau spoke up. “I’m still here.”

“Sorry.” But Delaney sounded anything but sorry.

“I meant ‘no,’ as in we haven’t slept together. I’m not really sure what we’re doing, honestly.” Were those tears in her voice?

More feet shuffled and their voices lowered.

Elijah strained closer.

“Oh, sweetie, what happened?” Delaney murmured.

“I’m an idiot,” Naomi cried, and Elijah longed to go to her. To hold her. But he stayed tucked in the shadows. Listening.

Ever discerning, Beau cut to the chase. “What did the bastard do? Do I need to string him up by the balls?”

They paused as the crowd inside tittered.

“Must be Mr.—Uh, Ben,” Naomi said.

“Ben?” Delaney asked.

“The magazine guy,” Naomi clarified.

“Right. I know. But since when is he ‘Ben?’”

“Since he came by the bakery and, uh, flirted a little.”

Elijah paused. The magazine man flirted with Naomi?

Mine.

He shoved away the automatic, uncomfortable thought. Maybe it was for the best if she found someone else. Someone she had something in common with. Someone who could love her like she deserved.

“Well, so what? He wasn’t the one with his hands on your ass and his tongue down your throat less than an hour ago,” Beau tossed out in his no-nonsense way.

“Yeah. I know,” Naomi said, tears now definitely in her voice.

Silence reigned for several painful heartbeats. Elijah wished someone would say something. Anything.

“What did the fucker do?” Beau asked again, anger tinging his words this time.

“Nothing. Not if you don’t count making me fall for him.” She sucked in a breath as Elijah’s world collapsed around his feet. “Hard.”